Opposing Forces (4 page)

Philippe was always happy visiting his parents in Neuchatel.  His mother had him in a bear-hug  the minute he stepped over the threshold.

Estelle Thevenez planted a kiss on her son’s cheek.  “Have you lost weight?  You’re looking a little skinny.”

He rolled his eyes.  “I’m fine, mother.  And eating perfectly well before you ask.”

Estelle snorted derisively. Without a woman, of course he wasn’t eating well enough.  “You timed your arrival right, I’ve some madeleines that have just come out the oven.”

Philippe sat at the kitchen table with a large mug of coffee and a tin of warm madeleines.  Before he knew it he had scoffed at least half.

“Bloody hell, Phil, do you have to eat everything in sight,” his younger sister Lauren groaned, snatching the cake tin before her brother could devour any more.

“It’s good to see you too, Lauren.”

She scowled back at him.  “Can’t you ever bring any cute officers home with you?  You must have at least one on the Force.”

Philippe laughed.  “Apart from the fact I wouldn’t know what you deem as cute, I certainly wouldn’t inflict my moody, hormonal sister on any of my friends.”

“A lot of use you are,” she grumbled and slunk off with a handful of madeleines. 

A few minutes later his father put in an appearance. “Still not got a haircut yet, Son?”

His father never could understand the appeal of long hair on a man.  “It’s what sets me apart from the other officers, gives me a more human look.”

His father grunted and poured himself a coffee.  “So how is work treating you?  Any promotions looming?”

Philippe looked down at his coffee a little guiltily.  “I’m kind of keeping a low profile at the moment.”

His father raised an eyebrow. “Dare I ask why?”

He took a deep breath.  “I got a little side tracked whilst serving a noise violation. The owner of the apartment in question was rather stunning and, well, distracted me completely.”

“That whole shambles in Lausanne was down to you?” His father was horrified.

“Not entirely. I was just the first part of it.  Dumont was the one who really screwed up.”

“So what was she like, the woman who got you so tongue-tied?” his mother piped up.

Philippe smiled.  “Beautiful, funny, talkative, very good in a fight.  She was just amazing.”

“And have you seen her since?”

He laughed.  “Unlikely, mother. I arrested her.”

“Perhaps she has a very forgiving nature too?”

“She’s way out of my league.”

“So you got off with no formal reprimand?” his father asked.

“Surprisingly, yes.  The Chief had the pleasure of meeting Miss Carrington himself and I think I got some sympathy as she completely steamrollered him into agreeing to all her demands.” Philippe looked around.  “What have you done with Sebastian?”

“He’s down at the lake with some friends.” His mother’s tone had a very sour note to it.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“I can’t put my finger on it but they seem just wrong.  I don’t think it’s drugs, but they just seem to loaf around all the time and do nothing.”

“I consider myself to be an expert in loafing around, Mother.  I’ll go down to the lake and see him. I can then give you my professional opinion.”  His younger brother always seemed to be associating with the wrong people, ironic considering he himself was an officer of the law. It was a challenge but he was hell-bent on straightening his errant sibling out.

Bettina looked at her reflection in the mirror.  She might be almost fifty-four, but she certainly did   not look it.  Her long brown hair was tied up into a chignon, her make-up was discreet and her Chanel suit showed off her slim figure.

She sat at the table in her kitchen studying her perfectly manicured nails, waiting for Hubert to return.  Her meeting with Michael that morning had been very productive and he had drawn up the terms of their divorce.  If Hubert agreed to everything, it could proceed with minimal fuss and upset.  The last thing he needed was a public and messy divorce. She personally no longer gave a damn and the only thing stopping those wonderful pictures she had taken from going to print were her children.  Steffen especially would be humiliated, not at his father’s indiscretion but the fact that it was made public.  Sabina would be mortified and Heinrich, well he actually would think it rather cool.

She heard Hubert come through the front door.  Picking up the legal papers, she intercepted him in the entrance hall.  He wore that hard, emotionless expression she was so used to. She handed him the papers.  “Some light reading for you, my dear.”

“Is this about yesterday?” he asked coldly.

“I hope she was worth it because, as you will read, it’s going to cost you a substantial sum.”  Bettina returned to the kitchen to collect her coat and bag.

Hubert glanced down at the papers as he followed her into the kitchen.  “This is a joke, right?”

She looked at him with ice in her veins.  “The joke is having a man of your age screwing a girl young enough to be his daughter.  Intern was she or a prostitute?”

“She was an intern,” he muttered.

“I no longer care. I’m tired of you thinking you can fuck anyone who takes your fancy and there will be no come back.”

“Bettina, this is ridiculous.  We have not had an intimate relationship for near on twenty years.”

“Probably because you have not shown an ounce of interest in your wife for near on twenty years. I bore your children and that was all I was needed for.” She turned on him with such hatred in her eyes.  “Have you any idea how humiliating it is to see my husband jump into bed with cheap tarts again and again.  I stuck by my marriage vows, and trust me, over the years I’ve had some very tempting offers.  Now I’ve had enough, Hubert.”  She picked up her things.  “I’m headed to Lucerne for a few days.  I’ll be back in time for my birthday dinner with the family as planned.  I’ll tell the children about the divorce afterwards.”

“For Christ’s sake, woman,” Hubert shouted at her. “I’m not going to give you a divorce. Just sweep it under the carpet as you’ve always done.  I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

She dealt him a heavy smack across the face.  “How dare you,” she yelled back.  “I am not like your whores who you can buy off with a sparkly object.  What you will be giving me is a house and damn good retirement plan.”

He snorted loudly.  “In your dreams. You walk out on me and you get nothing.”

“With the evidence I have of your string of indiscretions, you’d be lucky to keep the clothes you’re wearing. Contest one thing in the settlement and the pictures I took yesterday will make the front page of all the national newspapers, along with a very detailed catalogue of each and every affair you’ve had since I married you. And if that happens, say goodbye to your career, Senator.”  With that she flounced out the house.

She threw her bag into the boot of her Mercedes and pulled out the driveway at speed.  What really got under her skin the most was that the bastard hadn’t even apologised.  Well, she had him by his balls this time and she was going to inflict lots of pain. There was a lot of truth in the saying
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
And he was going to feel every little bit of her anger.

She was looking forward to a few days with her parents, it had been a while since she stayed with them.  Whilst she was in Lucerne she was going to register with a few agents, see what properties were on the market.  Her mind was set, she was moving back to Lucerne.  Like her daughter, she too was embarking on a new life.  Bettina Laroque was going to enjoy her twilight years.

Work had been manic for Maisie, she had been travelling non-stop and now she was looking forward to the barbecue down at one of the lakefront parks for Julianne’s birthday.  They had around fifty people attending so it promised to be a great evening.

They arrived early enough to bag a couple of barbecue pits close to the lake. The late June sun was starting to set, turning the sky a fabulous orange.  James took control of starting the barbecues whilst she and Julianne began to unload the food and drink.  Frankie arrived in time to help them carry all the beer and wine to the tables. The iPod was hooked up to some speakers, she and Julianne had their secret stash of champagne so all was well.  Before long the barbecue was under way and the party hopping.  The sun had set and candles were softly lighting their area of the park. 

Maisie was perched on a bench talking to her good friend Zara who she had not seen since her costume party.

“You’ve barely been in the country recently,” Zara chastised her. “You’re working far too hard.”

“Work has been so chaotic recently, but fun.”

“Julianne said you were in Prague last week?”

“Yep, in the last few weeks I’ve been in Prague, Riga, Dubrovnik and Sofia. It’s been a real Eastern European experience.”

“What was the food like?  Don’t they eat a lot of boiled meats and things?” Zara pulled a face.

“They do, but they also have fabulous western style food too.”

“How did the eastern European males stack up?” she grinned.

“I did come across some cuties.”

“We’ve missed you. You must promise to come with us down to Antibes next month. We’ve got a great villa for a couple of weeks.”

“How many are going?” 

“There’s about ten of us.”

“Text me the dates and I’ll try and get away, for a long weekend at least.  You know I love Antibes.”

“You’d better come else I’ll drag you down myself.”

“OK, threat understood.  Anyway, how are things with you and Jacques?”

“A little rocky at the moment.  He wants me to move in with him, but I’m just not ready for that type of commitment.  Christ, we’ve only known each other for four months.”

Maisie giggled. “Quite a reversal. It’s usually the man who won’t commit.”

“I have a feeling that if I don’t, this is the end of the line for us.”

“Then he’s a fool.  Why do men always mess things up?”

“It’s in their nature,” Zara sighed heavily. “Talking of men, I think Frankie is about to make a move.”

“He is persistent, I’ll say that for him.”

Frankie snuck up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. “I’ve got a prime piece of red meat with your name of it, Maisie,” he murmured in her ear. 

She rolled her eyes and turned around.  “Frankie, my love, I hate to break it to you but I’m vegetarian.” She kissed his cheek.   “Thank you for helping earlier with the drinks.”

“I would do anything for you.”

“Frankie, put Maisie down, I need her.” James’ voice echoed across the park.

Maisie slipped out of Frankie’s grasp and made her way over to James.  “What’s up?”

“I’m getting low on steak and I need another beer,” he grinned mischievously.  “And it looked like you needed rescuing.”

She swatted his arm and went off to find fresh supplies.  James took the beer gratefully.  “One of these days you will have to give in and get with Frankie. He won’t give up, you know.”

“Why does everyone want me to get with Frankie?” Maisie could not understand it.

“Because he is mad about you and would treat you well.”

“Frankie only chases me because I keep turning him down. Now pass me one of those sausages you’ve cremated.”  She held open a soft bun for him and loaded the sausage with ketchup and mustard.

She only got half way through it when Frankie noticed what she was eating.  “You’re not bloody veggie,” he feigned outrage and chased after her, bringing her down in a wonderful tackle.  They rolled down the slight hill towards the lake. She was squealing like a girl.  “Frankie, you’ve squashed my bloody sausage.”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” he murmured and then kissed her. Really kissed her. Maisie was not quite sure how to react.  It was the first time in the year she had known him that he actually had made a proper move.  He lifted his head and looked into her blue eyes. 

“Are you going to slap my face for that?” his dark eyes were staring into hers intently.

“Worse.”  She retaliated by pushing her mangled sausage bun in his face.

“That’s gross, Maisie,” he groaned and kissed her again, making sure her face ended up as filthy as his.

“Thanks, Frankie,” she hissed getting to her feet. “I’m covered in ketchup.”

“Allow me to remove it,” he responded gallantly.  He swept her up and walked to the water’s edge.  Maisie saw the twinkle in his eyes too late.  The next second she was flying through the air into the lake. 

She screamed loudly as she hit the ice cold water.  “Bastard,” she spluttered as she resurfaced. 

She heard the hoots of laughter and cheering from just above Frankie.  It seemed everyone at the party had been watching them and all wondering will they/won’t they.  Egged on by the support he was getting, Frankie removed his shirt and jeans and dove in after her.  She splashed water at him as he approached.

“Don’t even think about coming near me,” she scowled at him.

Frankie ignored her and pulled her too him.  “You’re incredibly sexy when you’re angry, Maisie.” He kissed her again.  “All clean now?”

Maisie swam back to the shore muttering a string of abuses.   She stood on the grass shivering pathetically, dripping wet with no towel. Frankie came to her rescue and threw her his dry shirt.  Slipping behind a conveniently placed bush, she peeled off her top, jeans and bra; her knickers were lacy so should dry in next to no time.  A waft of aftershave from his shirt made her smile; Frankie certainly did smell good.  And he could kiss well too.  She gave herself a shake, she definitely needed another drink.

Sitting by one of the fires drying her hair, with the now customary bottle of Perrier Jouet in her hand, Maisie knew her beloved grandmother would be turning in her grave if she could see her swigging champagne out the bottle. But she had lost her glass and champagne out of a plastic cup was just wrong. Leaning against Frankie, who wrapped an arm about her, she surveyed the scene.  There were still people eating from the barbecue, the drinks were being consumed at a steadier rate, music was pumping out from her iPod and everyone seemed to be having a terrific time.  She spotted James and Julianne slow dancing together.  A perfect party. 

“I can’t believe you threw me in the bloody lake, Frankie,” Maisie moaned. 

“Hey, it was the best way to get you to remove your clothes,” he beamed.  “And I have to say, you do look decidedly tempting in my shirt.”  He swept her hair to one side and kissed her neck.  “Are you going to continue breaking my heart by saying no?” he murmured in her ear.

Before Maisie could respond, she saw the flashing blue lights in the distance and watched the cars drive right down to the lake front.  “What now?” she groaned getting to her feet. 

Several police officers materialised from the cars, one of whom she vaguely remembered from the fight in her apartment. He was medium height, had a very short haircut and wore that cocky arrogance that many Lausanne officers had.

“Who’s in charge here?” he barked.

“That would be me, I guess,” Maisie stepped forward.  “Is there a problem?”

His eyes settled on her and Maisie could see the loathing in them as he recognised her.  “You?” he spat.  “We’re here to serve a noise violation.”

“Well, serve it and sod off.” Maisie could not help herself, it must be the champagne talking. “You and your fellow primates are certainly not welcome here.”

There was much jeering from her party. Apparently she said exactly what they were thinking.

His eyes narrowed further. “Insulting a police officer will land you in jail, Miss Carrington.”

“I haven’t even started insulting you yet, you moronic imbecile.” She took a swig of champagne. “When I do, I’ll put it in simple words so you understand.”

“One more remark from you and I will arrest you,” Dumont tried to sound as threatening as possible.

“Without the riot squad to back you up, you don’t have the balls.” She snatched the violation notice from his hand.  “Now get lost, you short twat. You’re ruining a good party,” she muttered loud enough for most people to hear. 

Dumont saw red.  He went to grab her arm as she walked away but at the last minute she turned and he ended up grabbing her breast.

Maisie was so shock she responded in true girlie fashion and slapped him hard across the cheek.  The next second she found herself flying through the air; the bastard had punched her full in the face.  Frankie, bless him, caught her before she landed on the ground.  She was genuinely seeing stars and could feel something warm running down her face.  It wasn’t ketchup this time.  She saw Frankie launch himself at Dumont; he was seriously mad. Then everyone else followed suit. She sat on the grass, visibly dazed, watching the mayhem unfold around her.  At least it wasn’t her home getting trashed this time. 

She wasn’t sure how the police numbers managed to double but one minute there were only a few of them, the next there were loads. Or was she experiencing double vision?  A short while later she found herself sitting in the back of another police van with her champagne bottle and bruised and battered friends. 

“I’m starting to feel a pattern developing here, guys” she grimaced.  Her fellow inmates laughed.

“Good food, good beer and a fight. A perfect evening,” Jean-Pierre grinned, one eye partially shut. “And this time Marco is wearing something a little more suitable.”

She could hear Frankie’s voice bellowing from outside the van as he was being man-handled into another.  “You OK, Maisie?”

“I’m good. Still got my champagne.”

“Save me some.”

“You bet.”  She did not know what to make of her relationship with Frankie.  Things had definitely progressed tonight, but into what, she didn’t know.  It seemed most of their friends wanted them to get together, but she was not sure she really wanted a long-standing relationship.  She had decided against those a few years ago. And Frankie was a high profile ice hockey player who had loads of women throwing themselves at him.  Could she really trust him?  Did she want the heartache?

Her head and eye were thumping.  What kind of cowardly man punches a woman right in the face?  She held the still cold bottle of champagne to her eye.  It offered limited relief.

“Can I borrow that, Maisie?” Jean-Pierre asked.  At least this time he wasn’t missing any teeth.

“Fuck off and get your own,” was Maisie’s light-hearted response.

She was hoping Julianne had stayed out of the fight as her handbag which contained half her life was under one of the picnic tables, along with her clothes and her shoes.  Much to her embarrassment she realised she wearing even less than the last time she was arrested.

By the time they arrived at the station, she was ready to do battle again.  Sergeant Dufrais was on the desk and did a double take as she headed up the group.

“Miss Carrington,” he smiled warmly. “Back again?”  He could not wait to hear this one.

“So it seems, Sergeant,” she sighed.  “I’ll be brief.  Wake the Chief up.  This time it’s personal assault with plenty of witnesses on both sides.”